Connor's Pretty Horny

That crazy, wild party came to be known between Henry and I as "The Night at Pine Drive" -- named for the street where it all went down. To me, personally, it was "that party with Alex" forever, two experiences I'm not sure I would ever be able to separate in my brain. Alex was that party, that party was Alex -- they were one in the same in my brain.

Stumbling home with Henry that night was an exercise of me struggling against his arm, him all but carrying me back to my dorm. In a complete stupor, I had somehow managed to pull off my nicest brown boat shoes, socks, shorts, and tore a button off my nice blue shirt taking it off which I discovered the next morning with a sigh.

That next morning, I woke up to the incredibly grating chirp of my cellphone. Even buried in a pile of clothing, in a tiny dorm room with a formidable hangover, the thing was a monster. I kept my eyes shut hard to keep the light from the window above my bed and pretended like I could possibly fall asleep again, with a blaring phone and 11:00 AM sunlight pouring in.

Well, there was the phone, the sun, and also my viciously hard cock. After my tryst with Alex in the bathroom, both of us had painfully unfinished business and now, pressing out of my boxer briefs was the fruit of our labor. I pulled my white comforter back to reveal my fair, taut stomach and again grinned at the very beginning of a nice set of abs. Further down, I could see the very beginning of my thighs, lightly dusted in thin brown hairs.

And the main event: I slid my hand down my stomach, under the waist band, and took grasp at the base of my cock. I honestly felt that I had a nice cock -- a decent tube of flesh topping at slightly over seven inches and somewhere inbetween average and thick. It was a fine, weighty dick, and it was mine. My other hand grazed my nipple as I took to stroking it, alternating between gentle caress and firm, hard strokes.

Sex was great. Giving a blowjob yesterday afternoon while I roughly stroked my dick had been awesome. My short-but-amazing blow for the stud, Alex, had been incredibly hot and intoxicating too. Still, there was something so uniquely great about taking care of my own dick in my own good time after sleeping in on a Friday. My head was hammering with the sudden rush of blood to my dick mixed with a hangover, but my piece was throbbing much worse.

My toes curled and my legs shook as my breath quickened. This time, I didn't need porn -- just the sweet image of Alex or David's cock flashing through my mind -- before four hot jets of cum came flying out of my dick and hit my cheek and chin. I had a long history of shooting loads pretty decently far, even as a young teen. For a few moments, I didn't even move to clean up. I just started up through the window over the head of my bed, squinting through the blinds at rays of clear blue sky. Yesterday had been incredible.

Alas, the day would have to go on. I used my underwear to mop up the cum on my stomach and face -- a terrible, lazy habit of cum disposal that I hadn't been able to kick yet. I discarded them on the floor and finally went rummaging for my phone, now completely naked. I sat cross-legged on the floor amidst my dirty clothes and saw a missed call from Henry, the call that had woken me up.

He had sent a text shortly after, reading out: "Breakfast?" I sighed and rolled my eyes with relief that the awkward encounter last night of him catching me in the bathroom with Alex hadn't caused a rift, evidently. Much of the prior evening was a blur to me now, but the embarrassment of those few moments was still red hot and crystal clear.

"Sorry sorry. Just woke up. Plans later?" I texted back, clearly having missed breakfast but still hoping to get together with Henry for Friday night. I sprawled out on the floor, still naked and stretched my legs and arms out. In a dorm room as small as mine, this meant sticking my feet under the corner of my bed and desk. I felt only slightly nauseous but the light rays from outside made me wish I could melt into the floor.

Henry had replied, "Hungover?" and we started a text conversation about the girl he had met last night and been dancing with. I pulled on a slick pair of black boxer briefs, my favorite pair, and with an out-of-character confidence I walked into the shared kitchen for a glass of water.

If Henry and I had gotten wild last night, Jake and Dean had clearly taken things a step further in a party for two. The counter now offered an array of hard liquors, and the boys had clearly lost their ability to pour accurately about halfway through the night as the kitchen reeked of alcohol. A bottle of vodka sat in a puddle that had been left without a towel, and I couldn't help myself from retching at the abrasive scent.

I held my breath as I passed through the kitchen to the fridge and filled a glass. I raggedly exhaled two full lungs of air when I turned around to face the couch and saw Jake there in his boxers, and his completely erect cock hanging out a leg. Jake had a total babyface and in the light from the window looked angelic, not to mention a thinner but long cut dick hanging out. Until yesterday, I hadn't considered my roommates for much, but seeing Jake lying there with a slight glaze of party sweat over him had me hardening in my underwear for the second time that morning.

I grinned to myself, took a final mental snapshot of Jake, and went to shower the drunken antics of last night off of my body.

Freshly dressed in another pair of shorts and a tee, I sat to study for a few hours while absentmindedly texting Henry and my older brother, who worked as an architect in Florida. I was blissfully unaware of how dire my circumstances were about to become when I received a calendar alert on my phone that read: Advisor Appointment -- 10 Minutes.

I was fucked. In the excitement of the morning and the low dull of being hungover, I had completely forgotten about my first meeting with my student advisor which was conveniently located across campus in the admin buildings. In seconds, I was slinging my bag over my shoulder and slipping into running shoes before bursting out into the living room to make the appointment.

"Hey we're gonna get lun--" Dean asked, but I was already closing the front door on his face.

I felt bad for that and would text him an apology later, but there's this thing about me. Anxious, nervous, straight-A student Connor Witmer just isn't late. I couldn't remember a time I had ever missed an appointment and I held a strong fear of disappointing adult authority figures. I hadn't even met my advisor yet, but the thought of tucking my tail between my legs and being even three minutes late was completely unbearable to me.

I sprinted across campus, and I really mean sprinted. My head was still hurting and my joints ached so fucking bad, but I booked it from my dorm at The W to the admin buildings like I had been trying out for the track team. By the time I walked into the student advising office, my face was sweaty and I'm sure I looked like a complete wreck. But I was here, on time, with a minute to spare.

"I'm-- I'm--" I huffed to the student sitting at the desk.

"Here for your appointment? Connor, right?" She was clearly bemused and probably excited for the action on a quiet Friday. "Mr. Reed is ready for you if you want to head back to his office."

I kinda saluted her, far too out of breath for words, and later regretted how awkward that action must have looked. I hurdled to the office she had gestured to and just as I was starting to relax at having arrived on time, I had tensed right back up again.

Sitting behind the desk was an older guy, probably mid-40s guy with a short flop of brown hair and the best lightly dense beard with flecks of gray that men his age often carried. He was totally casual, dressed in just a t-shirt and what looked like a light pair of gym shorts. His office had a similar vibe, there were some older movie posters and a shelf behind him with a few books and a selection of very in-vogue succulents. I'm not sure if I had ever in my life considered the prospect of an older guy, but my student advisor was clearly a first: a total stud.

When he saw me clumsily clutch the door frame, he stood up and placed one hand in his pocket and extended the other out to me for a handshake. He had a grin that exuded the kind of confidence that "cool" teachers so often have. Like he knew everyone just loved him, but was too gracious to ever admit it in any other way than a clever, radiant grin. I silently begged that his eyes wouldn't fall to my crotch, where I'm sure my growing boner was beginning to tent. If I could just sit down in front of his desk, I'd be in the clear.

"Well, can't say I've seen too many students quite as excited about their advisor meetings than this." He chuckled, and I took his warm fist for a firm handshake that sent electricity shooting up my arm and directly to my balls. He was that handsome. For a brief moment, I felt lucky to have him as an advisor -- that was until God himself completely discarded my prayers, and I watched Mr. Reed's eyes briefly hover over the tent in my shorts before he took his seats.

I'd say I went red with embarrassment, but after running a mile across campus, I'm not sure there was a deeper shade to go. I took my seat in front of his desk as he turned to his computer monitor to pull up my file.

"I'm so--Thanks for meeting with me, Mr. Reed." I had halted myself mid-apology and tried to make the best, most confident introduction I could muster. I failed miserably and my voice faltered.

"Nobody calls me Mr. Reed, I just go by Chase." He turned his face from the computer monitor and gave me that sly grin again before turning back. I felt like I was trapped in the classic movie scene where the teacher tells you to use his first name. I hated calling teachers by their first name -- it felt so weird to me.

"So, I see here that you're undeclared but interested in pursing either a History or Accounting degree, right?" Chase had glanced over my profile while I sat awkwardly, and now swiveled his chair to face me and put his feet up on the desk to display his muscular calves to me. He really was the definition of the "cool" teacher, and I was loving it.

"Uh, yeah. I put that on my application but... I'm still not sure or committed to anything." I stuttered out, absently rubbing my hands together under the desk and trying to will my boner away.

"Connor," he looked at me directly, our green eyes meeting, "You're a freshman. You don't need to commit to anything at all." He locked his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling, revealing a few first tufts of hair poking out from under his sleeves, "But it doesn't hurt to start figuring out where your passions are."

At this point, he was incredibly good looking, putting his body visibly on display for me, and also telling me exactly what an uncertain college freshman needs to hear. Needless to say, my hard dick wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

I took a deep breath and pushed the conversation on, "Well, I do actually like history, but I'm good with numbers too... But there's just not really a career with a history degree..." I trailed off. I was horny, no doubt, but really actually needed advising too.

"No careers with a history degree?" Chase took his feet off the desk, "I'll have you know, I have a history degree, Connor." For some reason, the firm way that he used my name made my cock strain against my underwear.

"I--Ah fuck, I didn't mean like there was nothing at all." My voice caught in my throat again at the way I had insulted him.

"I'm just fucking with you, Connor. I'm a math major, and here I am, working as an advisor." He gave me that award winning grin again, "The point I'm making is that, more often than not, your degree isn't a commitment on where you'll work for life. People with history degrees go on to be CEOs, when they want it. And I get the feeling that you'll drive your life wherever you want it to be, regardless which classes you took in college."

I took another deep breath and thought on what he had said. I'd spent my entire life hanging on the words of adults, but the quality of Chase's honesty really struck me. He was a math major who, I imagined, just wanted to work with college students or something. Maybe getting a history degree didn't mean you were locked for life into history, either. I actually felt a genuine trust for Chase, and was imbued with new confidence from it.

I think Chase saw my moment of contemplation on his words and determined that he'd hit the right spot. He plunged forward, "But, my role as your advisor isn't just school. How's college life?"

I steeled myself with confidence, "It's good, actually. I've been trying to put myself out there. I have some friends and stuff." I smiled, and it felt real.

"Connor, I'm glad," again, that throbbing sensation in my shorts, "There's some good gay student groups on campus, too." He locked eyes with me again, "Sorry, that was a hunch."

"No, you're... Yeah, I'm gay" I responded. He looked amused with himself for being right, and any other guy I might have been annoyed with his arrogance. Somehow, there was no way to be annoyed with Mr. Reed.

"Cool. You've got a friend in me, then." Chase motioned to a small pride flag that hung off his bookshelf. "I actually run a network of a couple gay students and faculty on campus, connecting them with mentors. I'm not gay myself." Here, Mr. Reed motioned to a wedding ring that I had conveniently ignored, "Just bisexual, but I like to help where I can."

At this point, Mr. Reed placed his feet back on the ground and put his elbows down on the desk to lean towards me. "I'm sure you'll let me know if you're interested in something like that."

I think I may have missed Chase's meaning. I eagerly responded, "That would be great, Mr. Reed! I've been hoping to find a faculty mentor in the history department if you know anyone." Chase put his hand against his forehead, ruffling his hair up between his fingers, and laughed to himself.

"Connor, if you're going to make it in college, you have to loosen up," Chase continued, "Not everything is about grades, tests, and career readiness, you know what I mean?" Suddenly, Chase took to his feet and stood next to me in the chair, reaching over my head to swing the door shut. His body scent overwhelmed it, it was so strongly of freshly cut grass. It felt like Mr. Reed must make a habit of coming to work after rolling around in his lawn mower bag or something. It was intoxicating.

As soon as that door swung shut, it felt like the temperature instantly went up ten degrees. I became acutely aware that my running shoes had started to come untied as I stared down at my feet. Chase, meanwhile, took another step and was now standing somewhere behind me but I was frozen in my chair. I don't think I could look back at him, even if I wanted to. He rest his thick hand on my shoulder and felt the tension there.

"Connor, relax. I'm serious, you're going to burn out after one semester if you keep carrying your whole future on these shoulders." Mr. Reed put his hand on my other shoulder and gently rubbed there. I wouldn't say it was a massage at all -- that's a different porno entirely -- but more of a comforting touch, like a father. I mean, ew, not my father, but the general concept of a father.

"Mr. Reed, I promise... I'm really trying to relax and have fun. Really." I gave a nervous laugh as his hands still rested there. Then, I felt it. Mr. Reed was unequivocally, undoubtedly pressing something firm into the part of my back that peeked above the chair. My heartbeat quickened and I felt my legs begin to shake slightly.

I think for just a split second, I had a pretty fierce out-of-body experience. I pictured myself sitting in this office with my student advisor's hard dick pressing against me. I had been a good boy all of my life and fiercely respected adult authority and the boundaries that came with it. I'd gotten a speeding ticket as a senior in high school that I knew had to be bullshit, but had apologized more times than I could count as the officer handed me my ticket.

I had never raised my voice to an adult, let alone had a closed-door sexual encounter. Every nerve in my body said that this couldn't be right, and I should just tell Mr. Reed that I would see him next semester for our advising appointment. But I couldn't do that, because I actually did want Mr. Reed right now -- and that powerful feeling of wanting was overriding my instinct for goody-two-shoes obedience.

Then, I remembered that I wasn't watching this from the ceiling. I was that boy sitting in the chair with a fierce boner and a hot older man trying to "get me to relax for once, Jesus!" There was this fire in me that wanted so badly to turn around and initiate the encounter I wanted so badly, but I was paralyzed.

"Here's the deal. Don't suddenly transfer into my Statistics class, and you have nothing to worry about." From behind me, I heard Mr. Reed unbutton his pants. "Just sit back, and you can owe me back for next time."

Owe him? For next time? What did that even mean? I had just begun to puzzle a few different scenarios out when Chase roughly pulled my chair back with his strong biceps and again I felt that smell of grass waft over me. Now, with the tent in my shorts so clearly visible, there was no denying that I wanted this.

Mr. Reed pivoted on one foot and kneeled to be in front of me and placed his warm palm against my rock hard rod. I let out the tiniest gasp, and Mr. Reed said, "Just be quiet so Lindsay doesn't hear, and let me do my thing down here, okay?" There wasn't even a thin layer of condescension. Something about the way Mr. Reed spoke to me asserted all this trust without any of the fear.

While one hand grabbed my toned calf, his other unbuttoned and unzipped my brown shorts. Quickly, he lifted my cock out of my underwear. I couldn't breathe, all I could do was watch. In that moment, I really felt like I couldn't have moved at all. "Dude," Mr. Reed said, "You have a hot dick." He spoke so candidly that I knew he meant it. That was more the kind of teacher relationship I was used to -- being honestly praised. The only difference was Mr. Reed was talking about my hard dick, which pointed directly at him.

One heartbeat later, and I watched stunned while Chase took my cock by the base, still holding my leg firmly and engulfed my cock. I'm not sure if there's any other word from engulf. From head to root, Mr. Reed took my dick down his throat and it felt so fucking incredible I nearly passed out. Obedient as ever, I bit the neckline of my shirt to keep from moaning out.

Mr. Reed pistoned my cock in and out of his mouth, working it with his hands and occasionally releasing my leg to fondle my heavy balls. For a brief moment, I wanted to be like Alex and pin him up against the wall and fuck into his face. Or like David and release a thick load all over his face and shirt. In reality, I was Connor and all I could bring myself to do was enjoy the amazing mouth wrapped around my dick.

Chase was an expert in every sense of the word. He used his tongue to perfectly stimulate my head without overwhelming me, and his hand worked my shaft better than I ever had. I kept my eyes open through incredible ecstasy to watch his face. He had such strong features, a nice fierce chin and brilliant green eyes matched his brown-grey beard so perfectly. I imagined that if Alex were to age 20 years, he'd be lucky to look as good as Mr. Reed did. Hell, anyone would be lucky to keep that youthful handsomeness in their eyes at 40. Chase looked back up at me too, and when our eyes locked for the third time that day, I knew I was going to shoot soon.

"Mr. Reed, I'm— Fuck — I'm sorry but I'm really close." I felt like an idiot for apologizing but my default response was always to apologize.